17. Brooks
SEVENTEEN
Brooks
“Dad, this is boring.”
I look over at Darby, who’s got his tablet with him for just this reason, and sigh. It’s been five minutes since we arrived at the doctor’s office, and I have a feeling we have a lot more waiting to go.
“Buddy, this is why I told you to download a new game or something.” I point at the sign across from us that details the Wi-Fi information. “Why don’t you find something, huh? It’s going to be a bit before the doctor can get us in.”
“Okay.” Darby walks to the sign to start getting the internet going on his tablet, and I lean back in my chair.
The cast is supposed to come off today, and fucking hell, am I ready for that. I know that I did it to myself, making it take so long, but I need this thing off now.
After a few more minutes, during which Darby is thankfully distracted by the tablet, we’re called back. The nurse does the usual exam, checking my development with a new set of X-rays, and then the good news is delivered.
“Well, Mr. Lowe, it looks like we’re taking this off.”
“Oh, thank God.” I sag with relief.
The nurse, Susan, laughs, and she pats me on the shoulder. “Let me go get the doctor, and we’ll cut this thing in half. Don’t be surprised if your arm looks a little strange. You haven’t been using it, so it’s natural if it’s atrophied a bit.”
I nod, and she leaves so we can get this show on the road. The truth is, I’ve been using my arm as much as I can, which is why it’s taken longer to get this cast off.
“Hey, Dad,” I look over at Darby, “you’re finally getting it off? Like for real this time?”
“Looks like it, bud.” I smile. “Thanks for being patient with me.”
He smiles back, but something is lingering there that I can’t parse out. I’d ask, but the doctor comes in, and we get started with the cast removal.
It doesn’t take too long, but there are all these steps they have to take before they cut through the cast with this tiny buzz saw thing. It’s pretty unnerving, honestly, but before I know it the cast is no more.
I flex my hand, making a fist over and over again, running my fingers over the skin that hasn’t been touched in so long. It’s fucking dry and extremely oversensitive.
“You’ll still need to take it easy for a while, getting used to moving it and using it again.” The doc eyes me, narrowing that stare of his because we both know how this recovery has gone. “And I’ll stress that if you don’t, you might just go and break it again.”
“I’m a rancher, Doc. I have to do a certain amount of heavy lifting.” We hold each other’s stares. “But you have my word that I’ll try my best.”
Dr. James sighs, shrugging before he stands up and shakes my hand. “Well, that’s all I can really expect from you, Brooks. I’d very much like to not see you again for a while.”
We both chuckle at that, knowing that this incident really should have taught me a lesson. I stand up, pulling up Darby so we can leave.
“Same, Dr. James. If I do, I hope it’s at the bar.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder, and we’re escorted through the building to get scheduled for a simple follow-up. He suggests physical therapy briefly, but the doctor knows who he’s talking to, so we leave it at just farm work.
“Alright, kiddo. How about some ice cream?” Darby perks up and nods emphatically. “Great. Let’s go.”
Darby gets his usual at Millie’s Ice Cream Parlor, a birthday cake and cotton candy ice cream sandwich, and I stick with my usual as well—caramel in a waffle cone. As far as the two flavors go, we’re pretty different from each other.
Still, I’ll admit that these outings with Darby are some of my favorite memories, and Millie always throws in some extra sprinkles for him.
“So, Dad, I have a question.”
I’m knocked from my thoughts when Darby speaks, and I shake my head, glancing over at him with a grin. He’s got ice cream all over his face and an unused napkin pile between us.
“Is it how to use a napkin?”
He looks at me, confused, and then I nod down at the little stack. A lightbulb goes off over his head, and Darby perks up, wiping his face until I nod that he’s gotten it all.
“Okay, so no, that wasn’t it.” Darby shakes his head, wadding up the last napkin he used and tossing it on the table.
“Alright, so what’s your question then?” I start up with my waffle cone again, holding it in my left hand like some sort of challenge because it needs to catch back up to the right.
“Do you like Clover?”
My tongue is out midway through licking the cone, and I pause. Pulling back, I clear my throat, regarding my son.
“Of course, bud. She’s been a big help. We may not need as much of that now that the cast is off, but I know that having her around has been beneficial.”
“No, Dad, ugh.” Darby groaned, rolling his eyes at me like I’d missed the most basic of points. “That is so not what I meant. God.”
“Darby,” I warned, not loving how he was blatantly “annoyed” with me. “The sass, dude. Chill. What did you mean?”
“Sorry,” he offers, his stare going down to the table a bit sheepishly. “I only meant, like…do you like like Clover?”
My stomach tightens, and I roll my lips between my teeth. I really thought we put this to bed, but apparently, I was wrong.
“Buddy, we talked about this. I?—”
“I know! Really. It’s just…” He pauses, and I watch my son consider his words, choosing the right ones. “You guys stare at each other a lot, and it’s not the same as you do with other people.”
Utterly called out by a ten-year-old, I nearly drop my ice cream. Thankfully, I correct myself, but the shock is still there.
“Where is all this coming from, Darby? You haven’t asked about it in a long time.”
“Umm, I don’t know.” He swirls his ice cream in the bowl, the sandwich losing some of its structural integrity as it melts. “You guys just…I don’t know! I can, like, feel something when I see you guys.”
“Feel something?”
He nods, and I just stare back at him, trying to understand what Darby is getting at. But I suppose it’s not that difficult if I’m honest with myself.
I just don’t want to be.
Still, I can’t deny that when Clover and I are alone together—or apparently when we just think we’re alone—we tend to stare.
“Honey,” I reach out, patting Darby’s arm, “Clover is your nanny. That’s where it ends. Okay?”
“What if she wasn’t?”
Stumbling through a laugh, I cock my head, my brow furrowing. “What if she wasn’t?”
“Well, you’re better now, like before. If I don’t need a nanny anymore, then Clover could do something else, and she wouldn’t be like working for us.”
“I see.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that. He’s damn perceptive, and while I appreciate that I’ve raised a kid who’s cognizant of what’s going on around him, I’d prefer it if it didn’t have to do with my love life—or lack thereof.
Especially when he can also tell that there would be something weird about me dating the nanny.
“Darby, I like Clover well enough, but that’s not what I’m looking for, okay? I need to focus on you, raising your wild butt so you grow up right.”
I muss up his hair as I speak, rubbing my hand on the top of his head before Darby playfully shoves me off.
“I’m fine, Dad. You worry too much. And, like, I’m not a baby, you know? I can take care of myself.”
I smirk. “Oh, really?”
“Yes! I work on the ranch and stuff. If I need food, I know I could just make a sandwich or soup or mac’n’cheese. Oh! Or cereal. I’m good. If you wanted to…I don’t know…like, go out or something. I’d be fine.”
Darby really is quite self-sufficient and mature. I probably could go out for a few hours and trust him at the house. Still…
I can’t do that.
It’s not because I don’t want to—Lord knows I want Clover like nothing else—but it wouldn’t be smart. I have no way of knowing how long things might last between Clover and me.
Or anyone else, for that matter.
Dating is just opening the door for hurt, and that includes my son. He doesn’t deserve that. I won’t break his heart again because yet another person decides that they aren’t interested in being a parent—or worse, also decides that there’s something better than me out there.
“Darby, that’s sweet, really, but I?—”
“It’s true! I could do it. I just want…” He falters, sagging in his seat as the all-white interior of the ice cream shop begins to sting my eyes. “I just want you to be happy. You’re always working on the farm, and you smile more when Clover’s around.”
That floors me and my jaw actually drops.
“I do? I…I’m sorry, kiddo. I don’t want you to be worrying over me.” I wrap my arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer in his plastic chair. “I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters to me.”
Not saying anything, Darby stirs his melted blue and pink ice cream, taking a reluctant bite.
“Look, Clover is…” I pause, my mind thinking back to all the verbal battles we’ve had since she arrived. “…a good person. I’m truly grateful for her help. But my only focus is on you, okay?"
He looks up at me. “You’re smiling. You do it every time you say her name, Dad.”
That is not what I expect to hear, and I pull back slightly. It’s a moment before I can speak again.
“I do not. You’ve got to stop messing with your old man.”
He looks at me like he’s in the know, and sighs, eating another bite.
“I don’t.”
Rolling his eyes, my son finishes his treat and stands up to take it to the trash. “Sure, Dad. Whatever you say.”
I don’t have any response for that. Darby cleans up his food, and I finish the ice cream cone, tossing the paper wrapper in the trash behind him. We walk to the door, and the bell jingles over our heads as we leave to walk back to the car.
It’s quiet for the entire walk. I just don’t know what to say. I don’t want to sound overzealous, and I don’t want to upset Darby.
The truth is that I know I feel something for Clover. I do. But it’s not possible. For the reasons I said about needing to focus on Darby and so many more.
She’s not a permanent staple. Going back to NYC is very likely, and bringing Clover into our lives only for her to leave would just be too painful.
I’ve trusted someone to stick around before and got burned. I’m not risking that again when it was the mother of my child who decided we weren’t worth it last time.
Leah had every reason to want to be with us and didn’t stay. What’s to stop someone from leaving when they’ve only been around this family for a few weeks?
No, I’m not doing that.
Plus, there’s that whole best friend’s daughter thing. Even if Clover didn’t work for me anymore, it doesn’t change her age or who her dad is.
Whatever I feel, I need to ignore it—for everyone’s sake.